Sherlock trudged up the stairs after a long day of chasing after a serial killer Santa through the cold, wet London streets. With the man now caught, Sherlock was very much looking forward to his warm flat and a good rest.

He opened the door to 221b and breathed out a deep sigh of contentment. The fire crackled in the hearth and the smell of cookies baking in the oven caused his mouth to water.

And sitting cross-legged on the floor by the sofa, surrounded by what appeared to be mountains of photo cards and envelopes, was Molly. Dressed in a baggy sweater decorated with snowflakes and reindeer, her hair was pulled back in a high ponytail and tied with a sparkly red ribbon. She had a pen behind her ear and glasses on her face as she flipped through a notebook.

She looked up at his entrance and smiled. 'Catch him?'

'Just before he tried to jump into the Thames.' Sherlock shrugged out of his coat and let it fall to the ground. He side-stepped her piles and stretched out on the couch behind her. She looked back at him and kissed him softly.

'My hero.'

Settling his chin on her shoulder, he asked, 'Christmas cards?'

Molly hummed. 'Just making sure we didn't forget to include anyone.' She reached down and plucked one of the cards from the pile and held it in front of her. 'What do you think?'

Sherlock stared at the festive card and felt his heart ready to burst. He'd been reluctant to do a photo session, insisting it was a ridiculous waste of time; but he'd been wrong.

Their five-month-old daughter, dressed in a red holiday dress with sparkling white trim, laughed at the camera, the apples of her cheeks rosy and her blue eyes wide with delight, as Molly and Sherlock kissed her cheeks.

'It's perfect,' he murmured. Molly sighed happily and leaned her head back. Sherlock took the opportunity and caught her lips, reacquainting himself with his wife.

Suddenly, the monitor crackled and their daughter's happy babbling filled the room. Sherlock groaned when Molly pulled away.

'I guess nap time is over.' She giggled and made to get up, but Sherlock stayed her with a hand. 'Let me.'

With one last kiss, he stood and made his way into the nursery, where his daughter was standing in her cot. Upon seeing her father, Georgina's face bloomed into a wreath of smiles as she bounced up and down.

Sherlock picked her up and cuddled her close.

'Dada dadada,' she babbled, her hands reaching out to poke at his face.

'Hello, my love,' he nuzzled her cheek.

It was good to be home.